Riley, page 8
He could only nod at his father. He looked different. It wasn’t only the street lamp or the taxi lights that had softened his face, but there was something different about it. It held what he could almost call a loving look, and he didn’t look so small and wizened.
As the taxi was about to move off he called to the driver, ‘Oh, wait a minute!’ and jumping out onto the pavement, he put his hand in his pocket and drew out an envelope, saying, ‘Give her half of that and get something for yourself. It was for me keep and more. I…I got a bonus.’
His father said nothing, not even thanks, but just held the envelope in his hand and watched his son jump back into the taxi. ‘Keep half for yourself, I’ve got a bonus.’
Alex Riley gazed at the envelope: it meant such a lot, the lad had given him back some of his self-respect.
Five
They were all gathered for the last time. The audience had reluctantly dispersed and the whole company was engaged in erecting two long trestle tables in the hall, covering them with cloths and piling on them all manner of home-made pies and cakes, and even more evident was the number of bottles standing at the ends of the tables. Each member had brought a friend and a bottle or two. As well as the players and their friends, there were outsiders, including Fred and Louise and the newspaper editor, and the owner and barman from the Globe, who had served most of the cast with pub meals six days in the week. Altogether there were more than forty people ready to sit at the tables.
After Riley had told Fred what had transpired between his mother and father and himself, Fred expressed his amazement, saying that he had always thought she was such a wise woman; Louise wasn’t as surprised. Earlier, she too had wanted to meet the mother of this young fellow who was so full of character and impishness; but having then made her acquaintance she found that she was very disappointed in the woman. She understood, from the first, that Mrs Riley didn’t mind her boy having men friends such as Fred, but she couldn’t tolerate him showing any friendly affection for another woman. Both she and Fred, however, were pleased that Riley had found his father, albeit late, as the boy himself had said.
Fred had suggested that Riley ask his father to join them on this last night, but Alex Riley had refused, saying that it would hurt his mother still further.
A crowd now stood around the piano singing everything from The Blaydon Races to Keep Your Feet Still Geordie Hinny, interspersed with The Old Bull and Bush, Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey, and choruses from every musical one or other raked up from the twenties and earlier.
And so the jollification went on until David Bernice called for the attention of the whole company and friends and, standing at the end of the long table, said, ‘Fill your glasses, ladies and gentlemen; I want to make a toast.’ This done, he went on, ‘First, to a most remarkable play acted in a remarkable way by all concerned, here’s to The Golden Mind.’
All raised their glasses and called, ‘To The Golden Mind.’
‘Now, ladies and gentlemen, I would like the glasses to be raised again to one particular person, someone who came here as a young lad with a dirty nose. I am speaking metaphorically, of course!’ he said amid laughter. ‘My companions know what I mean; he was raw, very raw. He was looking, I think, for a director’s job, but the only position I could offer him at the time was that of assistant stage manager. Well, we know the importance of assistant stage managers, because where would we be without the tea? Where would we be without our sandwiches? Where would we be without the sweeping brush being used? Where would we be without a strong pair of muscles to help move giant flaps, or climb rickety ladders onto a more rickety platform six inches wide along which to walk to replace an electric bulb?’ Now the whole company was laughing and Nyrene Mason, who was standing next to Riley, put an arm round his shoulders and hugged him to her; but he didn’t look at her, his head was bent.
Then David Bernice, raising his glass, said, ‘To Larry, the boy who lived in another world: a world of golden thoughts, of music and dance; and who was so brilliantly portrayed that his acting has attracted to this theatre people of this town and round about who had never been here before; and not only that, his acting has lifted him not just to the first rung of the ladder to success but more likely to the third or fourth. We all know of the offers that have been made him and each one of us, and I know I am speaking for the entire cast when I repeat, each one of us is happy for him, because he has proved to be a favourite with us all, and to one more so than the rest, our dear Nyrene Mason. It was she, he would tell you himself, who trained him every step of the way: she has been his mentor. But first, to you, our dear Riley: here’s to further success in everything you do.’
Riley couldn’t raise his head. His throat was full, his head was buzzing, not only with all that had been said but with the three sherries and the port and lemon that he had so far imbibed. He couldn’t speak. He had no words of his own, for he had been Larry for so long. Was it just four weeks? Four months? Four years? He pulled his arm away from Miss Mason’s and pressed himself back from Fred and Louise who were also standing close by, and in the small space that he had made he suddenly went limp. Then his head moved in the same little noddings as it had done for almost two hours every night during the past month. His arms came up into the form of limp wings, and the expression on his face became soft and sad, and everyone in the room gazed at him with awe. It was one thing to see an actor on the stage, but here was this lad becoming an idiot before them; and then in a soft quiet voice Riley began to sing:
‘I’d like to crown Mummy
with flowers of May;
Daddy says I have a golden mind,
But he does not smile.
Sad…
Not kind. Not kind,
As the birds and the fireflies and the bees.
All the birds,
I have nests in my mind,
They spin golden thread
To fasten my golden mind.
God is kind.
And so big.’
When he finished his hands fell to his sides, his head drooped and he stood thus for a moment amid the utter silence of the whole company; and then when they applauded vigorously he put up his hand and said, ‘I did that by way of thanking all those who have helped me to be Larry during the past month. Whenever I came to that part I felt I was Larry and governed by a great God; and I owe this to my dear friend.’ He now put a hand out and caught Nyrene’s. ‘Without her daily bullying for weeks on end before, I would never have got there. There were times when I hated her guts.’ This caused general laughter and more applause; and then he ended by saying, ‘Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Wherever I land up I shall never forget the Little Palace or its owner.’ And pointing towards David, he ended with deep sincerity, ‘Thank you, sir.’
When the applause had subsided and drinks began to flow, Fred moved towards Riley again, and said, ‘Look, laddie, you’ve been drinking and not eating. If you want to keep on your feet, get something into you.’
And so he ate, and he drank a little more, and he chatted, and he laughed, and those standing close by laughed with him.
When he found himself standing near David Bernice, that gentleman said to him: ‘One thing I would ask of you, Riley: keep in touch with Nonagon; I know she has a deep affection for you.’
‘Oh yes, sir, I will. I could never forget Miss Mason.’
Oh yes, he would always remember her, because without her he wouldn’t be going on the road in a very short time, or into any panto, which was putting it plainly. She had trained him, and she had carried him through those first two terrifying nights. Yes, he would always remember her. He could never forget her.
‘By the way, sir, why do you call her Nonagon? It’s only you who calls her that. Is it a nickname?’
‘Well, I’d have to explain what nonagon means. A nonagon is a figure of nine sides; in her case, it refers to one over the eight. After a great disappointment in her life she took to the bottle. I suppose you’ve heard various versions of the story. As you know only too well, you’ve helped keep her supplied. But we won’t go into that, not tonight, except to say I nicknamed her that when she first went over the top, and now it’s a term of endearment. And I’ll tell you something else: she had an offer about the same time as you did, although not in Manchester but much nearer London; and she turned it down.’
‘Turned it down? Why?’
‘Don’t ask me why, because I can’t give you a reason, I can only suggest that she doesn’t want to leave me and this little place. As you know, actresses come and go while they’re learning their business; and she knows her business, yet wants to stay. What is more she doesn’t want to leave her home, a nice little house that she inherited from her parents. It’s more like a large cottage than a house, but it’s a pretty place, especially during the summer. It has a pleasant garden at the back, and an attractive frontage, and it’s in a very good part of the town. In this trade, if you want to earn a living you’ve got to be on the move; and many actresses would turn up their noses at the little I am able to offer her some weeks. Perhaps you didn’t know, because your huge pay packet was stable, whereas hers fluctuates with the sale of tickets and it’s very rare that we’re in clover. This last month, as you know, has been an exception; and why, young man, I’m telling you all this is because this is your last night in the Little Palace and I’ve drunk more than usual. In fact, we’ve all drunk more than usual, and it’s a good job it’s Sunday tomorrow for we’ll all have sore heads. Ah’—he nodded now towards the middle of the hall—‘they’re on the move, they’re beginning to leave. Come on and say your goodbyes.’
For the next half-hour Riley said his goodbyes: some were tearful; and he had never been hugged and kissed so much in his life before. Now, apart from the caretaker and his wife and Billy Carstairs and his wife who were already clearing up, there remained only David Bernice, Fred and Louise, and Nyrene and himself.
Fred and Louise were already dressed for departure when they took Riley aside: ‘We think you should stay back and see her home,’ said Fred, inclining his head slightly towards Nyrene who was sitting in one of the plush chairs alongside the vestibule wall; and without waiting for an answer, he added, ‘I’ll give you a key to let yourself in.’ He was already taking a key off a ring he had taken from his pocket. And as he handed it to Riley, Louise said, ‘And don’t come in singing.’
‘As if I would, ma’am, as if I would,’ said Riley. ‘Well, what time is it now?’
‘A quarter to one,’ said Fred; ‘and our babysitter will have rung her mother and father and they’ll be on the doorstep waiting to tell us just what they think of us.’
They now said their goodbyes to Nyrene, while Riley went to the cloakroom.
When he returned to the hall Nyrene was on her feet and David Bernice was doing up the top button of her coat; then having pulled up its fur hood over her piled auburn hair, he bent and kissed her on each cheek, and said, ‘Sleep all day tomorrow. D’you hear?’
Nyrene did not answer, but smiled a wide, rather silly smile at him; and when she swayed he beckoned Riley to take her arm, the while saying, ‘There’s a taxi waiting.’
‘Where are your keys?’ Riley asked at Nyrene’s front door.
‘Where…where do you think?’ She laughingly replied as she handed him her handbag.
He had to fumble in it for some seconds before his fingers found the key ring. Then, when he tried one in the lock, she pulled it away from his hand, saying, ‘Give it here, stupid!’
It was the first time he had been in her house, and his initial surprise was at the size of the hall and, also, of its contents. They were pieces similar to those in the Beardsleys’ house.
He followed her stumbling walk towards a door to the left of them, his own step somewhat unsteady, too; and when the light in this room was switched on he was again surprised. A crystal chandelier lit up the room, causing his eyes to blink, and as he hesitated to gaze around, Nyrene pulled him towards a couch set at right angles to a fireplace in which was a large electric log fire.
‘Switch it on!’ she said, pointing to the fire. ‘I’m…I’m fr…freezing.’
Within a few minutes the artificial logs were glowing and the fan was sending heat into the room. She was sitting at a corner of the couch when she said, ‘A drink, eh? A drink?’
‘Oh no! You’ve had more than your share; and so have I.’
‘Coffee, man! Coffee!’
‘Oh, coffee. That’s different. Where?’
‘Ah.’ As she sighed and pulled herself towards the front of the couch, he rose quickly in order to help her up; and she led him out of the room, across the hall again and into the kitchen.
When the light came on here, he shook his head. This was an oldish house, but this was a very modern kitchen. A lovely kitchen.
She staggered to the far side of the room and pulled a percolator, already filled with coffee and water, towards her and switched it on; then, turning a laughing face towards him, she said, ‘Four minutes dead flat. Cups!’ She pointed to a glass cupboard, and when he opened the door and was about to take two cups from an array of china, she laughingly called to him, ‘No! Not tea cups; two…two mugs, eh?’
He reached up and took down two mugs from another shelf; then stood by her as she put them on a tray, with a bowl of sugar.
Five minutes later they were back in the sitting room drinking the steaming coffee.
She had half drained her mug when she said, ‘Ah, that’s better! That’s better. Still leaves room for a proper drink.’
‘Oh no, me lady! No more proper drinks tonight. I have spoken!’
They were lying back against the soft cushions of the couch, and she turned her face to him, saying, ‘Riley,’ and he answered, ‘Yes, miss?’
‘Don’t call me miss any more.’
‘Oh? What will I call you?’ Nonagon immediately came to mind, only for him to dismiss it. Then she was stammering, ‘My name is Nyre…ne! Why does everybody call you Riley, never your Christian name?’
‘Don’t ask me, Nyrene.’ He was laughing. ‘I think it was, well, Mr Beardsley. He always said Riley. And me dad calls me Riley. You know something? I’ve found a dad. Today, I found a dad. No, not today, but yesterday. We’re in another day now. Look!’ He pointed to an open pendulum clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Half past two.’
‘You know, Riley, your mother is a stupid woman…narrow, stupid…woman.’
‘No, I won’t have her called stupid; narrow, yes. Oh, narrow, yes. You’re right…narrow, yes.’
‘My mother died when I was twenty. Did you know I was born in this house? Yes, I was born in this house, upstairs. But she died…she died when I was twenty. I was in London then…you know. Did you know that, Riley?’ She pushed her face close to his. ‘London. L-o-n-d-o-n, London. Three years in drama school, and I’d been in this play. Big success it was. I wasn’t leading. No, no, no, not at all, but I was noted by the press. Oh yes, yes, yes, I was. And then my mother died; and my father was helpless without her. You see, Riley, some couples care for each other and…well, when one dies the other dies while still livin’…living. “Don’t forget to sound your gs, miss.” That’s what the teacher used to say to me.’ Her voice trailed away. “Don’t forget to sound your gs.” Well,’ and now as if talking to herself, she went on, ‘I gave up London, came back home to see to him. I loved him. And there was the Little Palace, and there was Mr David Bernice, and he gave me a small part. Then he gave me a bigger part; and then, after the comings and goings of other leading ladies, I was leading lady at the Palace. And leading men came and went, until one came, and stayed. He was different.’
She stretched her legs out and thrust her arms above her head and yawned, and when she repeated, ‘Different,’ it was almost a yell.
‘He wasn’t a good actor, no; and I don’t give myself any false claims, Riley, but I carried that man for eighteen months. He looked about thirty; yes, about thirty. Oh no, a bit more. Handsome, very handsome and couldn’t forget it, but he was nearer forty. His trouble was that he played himself every time, played himself because he liked himself, and oh, grateful to me, yes, so he said.’ She turned now to look at Riley and she asked him, ‘Has anyone yet said to you, Riley, “I love you. I adore you. You are the most wonderful person in the world”?’
He was laughing now as he replied, ‘Not yet. Not yet, miss…Nyrene.’ He stressed her name.
‘They will. Oh, they will. And you’ll believe them. Oh yes, they will.’ She was shouting again. ‘Oh yes, you will, ’cos I did. And you’ll talk of marriage, you know; and you’ll come into this house…no, not you, he did. And he was pampered and looked after and worshipped. Yes, you silly bitch of a woman, because you weren’t a girl, were you?’
She was sitting up now nodding her head as if to someone standing before her: ‘No, you weren’t a girl then, twenty-seven you were, twenty-seven. Then one morning you woke up.’
She turned again towards Riley who was still leaning back on the cushions but staring fixedly at her, and she wagged her finger at him as she said, ‘A letter through the box there,’ and she pointed towards the door. ‘A letter to me thanking me for…for our friendship. That’s what he called it, friendship. Yes, that’s what he called it. But where was he going? Australia? As far away as he could get…Australia…with a touring company, as you are. He said that by the time I received his letter he’d be on the boat. On the boat!’ She almost spat out the last words.
‘You see, it was the free week that we have now and again at the Palace, and he had pre…presumably—I must make a better attempt at that—presumably? That’s it, presumably been home to make arrangements for me to go and…wait for it, Riley…visit his people down in Cornwall.’
